Gallant as a cloud, proud
Before all the eyes of earth, death
No more niggly than a gnat, hat
Never humbly in hand, upstand-
Ing I was born.
Feathered in fiery skin, sin
A stranger to my heart-knot
I ran graced, and I crowed, crowned
By loud Love's crying spires
All my lengthening youth.
Outfitted with a suit of ruth, death
My wages on my way, away
I gave day to moon-soothing night, lit
By my scholar's candle, dull-
Witted with ignorance and loss.
O I knew nothing, nothing
In my pinnacled prime, time
My wings and my hearse; terse
Time clocked me back to one; gone
Was my youth like a cloud.

About the Author

Gregg Glory (Gregg G. Brown)

Gregg Glory [ Gregg G. Brown ] has devoted his life to poetry since happening across a haiku by Moritake, to wit:

Leaves
float back up to the branch--
Ah! butterflies.

He runs the micro-publishing house BLAST PRESS, which has published over two dozen authors in the past 25 years. Named in honor of the wild Vorticist venture by Ezra Pound and Wyndham Lewis, BLAST PRESS is forward-looking and very opinionated.

He still composes poems on his departed father's clipboard, which he's had since High School.